It
was just a bundle of grass, tied to his doorpost.
But
it slammed Gena's mind into high gear so fast that
his feet were sure they had to start running just to keep up.
He
wanted to flee, but he also wanted to tear the bundle off and go inside. He
reached toward it, but stopped.
Fear
goaded him to do so many things at once that he could do nothing.
The
bika on his doorpost
meant an enemy had summoned the spirits to harm him. Maybe he would get sick,
or his garden would wither. That was bad enough. But if he tore the bika off the spirits
might take it personally – and that would be really bad. He could become ill
and die. He had not just heard that; he had seen it.
The
spirits are not just superstition to Gena and the
rest of the people in
He
needed to kill a small animal and have the proper incantation said. Yes, that
was it.
But
he couldn't do the ritual.
One
thought silenced all the others.
"I
belong to God."
He
couldn't worship the spirits. But there was more than that. He didn't need to
worship the spirits. God was in control – God had made the spirits, and He had
made Gena.
Gena had decided to
trust Jesus as his Savior. Now
he decided to trust God as his protector.
He
reached up. He
pulled the grass from his doorpost.
He
dropped it to the ground. He
went into his house.
And
he stopped.
He
listened to his breathing, to his heart. It wasn't difficult to hear them; they
were so loud that there were no other sounds in the house. His breathing was
fast; his heart was racing. But they were both working, and working fine, as
far as he could tell.
He smiled.
And he went on with his life.
God's Truth has set Gena free.